


The Answer

by finding_niamho



Series: Fairytales [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Memories, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Picnics, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Sour Cherry Scones (Simon Snow)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24422644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finding_niamho/pseuds/finding_niamho
Summary: After returning to Watford, there are still many unspoken words between Simon and Baz. Meanwhile, Baz stumbles upon some childhood memories and wants to ask questions. Simon just wants answers. Penny just wants her fanta back.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fairytales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767577
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	The Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic hope you enjoy it. :)

_Legend tells of a being_

_That works in wish revealing_

_One look and you will acquire_

_Your innermost desire_

_To help you she will attempt_

_For she is of Fairy decent_

_They say she appears if you wear a tiara_

_And her name is Liliana_

\- 7 Tales for Miniscule Mages, Chapter 2

**BAZ**

I find the book in my mother’s office. I didn’t mean to end up there, but I often do since we came back to Watford. I find myself wandering the grounds, no destination in mind until I’m walking toward the bookshelf, my shoes creating footprints in the dusty floorboards. I don’t know what I’m looking for, really. It would be easy to say answers, but to find answers, you first have to learn how to ask the right questions.

And sometimes you don’t want to ask the right questions, because you don’t want to hear the right answers out loud. If I asked Simon all the questions I wanted to, I don’t think I could take the answers.

I look down at the book again. I vaguely remember my mother reading this to me when I was little. She would sit me down in her office, pull a book off the shelf and ask me where I felt like visiting today. Then, we would explore worlds together, me balancing on her shoulders as she fought dragons, outwitted goblins and rescued the pesky prince. This Liliana story was one of my favourites, about a humble mage who just wanted someone to dance with at the village fete ( ** _I wanna dance with somebody_** is a forbidden spell. Compelling someone to dance with you is just sad, as well as rude.). All it takes for Liliana to know and grant your wish is for her to look you in the eyes. They say that she can see the wish moving around inside your soul, asking to be fulfilled. Then, the answer to your wish turns up in the most unexpected place. The lonely mage had almost died of old age before one year, just before the last dance at the village fete an old friend whom he had not seen since his youth offered him her hand.

I turn the book over in my hands, wondering how long it’s been since I last traced these looping words with my fingers, last smelt the musty pages of the ancient, leather-bound volume. Mother would give the fairy a sweet, high voice like chiming bells. Each time I had the book read to me, I imagined what wish would be seen inside me. When I was 4, it was for a baby brother. When I was 5, it was a new train set. Now? I know what my wish is but I need to grant it myself. There’s no fairy to do it for me anyway.

I wish there was a way to show Simon Snow that I still love him.

**SIMON**

I wake up shaking. The nightmares started again the moment I set foot back in England (literally – we were on the plane when I first saw the Mage’s face again). I turn to reach for Baz, but he’s not here. He’s _never_ here when I wake up.

He’s never here, full stop.

Where does he go? It’s not like we’re third years, roaming the grounds in search of adventure. Baz was never in search of adventure, anyway. Mostly, he was in search of a fight with me. Sometimes I miss those days. At least we still spoke to each other, even if it was just to tell each other to fuck off. I look over to his bed. It’s been weird, sharing our old room again. But we couldn’t go anywhere else, the wards wouldn’t let us in. And we had bigger problems, anyway. The room hasn’t changed at all since our eighth year, only we have. Although I still have to sit here, in the same room as him and pretend that he doesn’t take my breath away. That would only make things worse.

“Simon Snow! If I find you drinking my Fanta one more time, I will spell your shoelaces together!”

Oops. I forgot about the Fanta.

“Good morning to you too, Penelope. And can I just say that the leaves in your hair and mud on your shirt really compliment your eyes?” I say, grinning.

“Simon!” Penny huffs. “It’s _barely_ the morning anymore. It is 11 o’clock, and the reason I have a leaf in my hair is that _someone_ couldn’t be bothered to help me… are you ok?”

I turn back to her from where I’ve been staring out of the window.

“Mmm? Yeah, fine.” I’m not fine. I’ve become less and less present lately, and we both know it. Penny sits on the bed beside me and put her arm around me.

“Tell you what, how about we have a picnic today? You, me and Baz. Out on the lawn.”

“But Penny, we’re in the middle of a crisis!”

“We’re always in a crisis! It’ll still be there for us to deal with tomorrow.”

“What about Shep and Agatha?”

“Collecting pixie dust in Cornwall with mum. They won’t be back till next week.”

I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

“I’ll make scones,” Penny singsongs. “With lots of butter!” I open an eye and glance at her.

“Fine.” I offer her the Fanta.

“Simon, this is empty!” She gestures towards the bin in the corner with her ring hand.

“ ** _Yeet!_** ” the metal lands with a clang at the bottom of the bin.

“Waste of magic,” I mutter as she pulls me into a hug.

**BAZ**

We make Simon carry everything, as per usual. We spread out a green-and-purple picnic blanket on the lawn and Simon starts eating butter _off the knife_ before Bunce has even had a chance to spell the tea hot.

“Simon,” I sneer, “Would you stop being such a numpty for once?”

“At least I’m not enough of a numpty to get kidnapped by one.”

Bunce snorts. All the blood in me (quite a lot, she brought rabbits) rises to my cheeks. I would throw a grape at him, but that would be a dire waste of grapes. Instead, I pop one in my mouth and level my gaze at Simon.

“At least _I_ know that Gampire isn’t a real name.”

“Oh, bite me Baz.”

“Gladly.”

There is a moment of silence, during which Penny decides it’s a good time to go and get more scones (Simon’s already taken about five and put them on his plate). I can see him frantically looking around, bless him, desperate to break the awkward silence. It shouldn’t be awkward. We should both be laughing our heads off right now. Finally, he spies my book.

“What’s that?” he asks, cocking his head slightly to right like he usually does when he’s trying to work something out. It used to go to the left when he kissed me.

“An old book my mother used to read to me. It’s fairy tales for children.”

“Mages have fairy tales?”

“Everyone has fairy tales, Simon. How would we learn to imagine if we didn’t?”

“What are they about?”

I tell him about Liliana. A tale of “I want” and “I wish.” What do I want? Simon Snow, I want to take your hand and run through a bloody field with you. I want to run my fingers through your hair and pull you towards me and kiss you. I want to be that cliché with you. I want to wrap all your dreams up in a bow and give them to you as a present. I want to rip out my heart and show you how it bleeds when you’re not there and even more so when you are. I want you sitting next to me with your freckles and your moles and your blue eyes and us to say those words so quietly only we can hear. I want to share this universe with you, knowing that you are mine because I am most definitely yours.

But I don’t say any of that, because he doesn’t ask. And it’s all cheesy crap anyway.

When I’m about halfway through the story, a breeze ruffles Simon’s hair and a piece of tin foil rolls down the hill towards the Wavering Wood. Simon jumps up to run after it. I dive for the foil, accidentally grabbing one of his ankles instead and sending us both tumbling down the hill. When we land, my face is so close to his, it would be all too easy to kiss him. I see his eyes widen slightly. Rolling off him and dusting myself off, I spot the wayward tin foil and pick it up delicately between my thumb and forefinger, like I’m picking up a handkerchief.

“Thine handkerchief, good sire.” I drawl, flourishing it in front of his face. Simon grins.

“Actually, _good sire,_ it’s my crown.” He takes it from my hands (his hands are warm), puts it on his head and giggles hysterically. I join in, finding the sight of him with shining, wrinkled silver in his hair ridiculous if a little endearing.

“I bet I look well naff” he laughs.

“Always,” I reply. That’s when we hear another voice joining in the laughter. Oh good, Bunce is back with the food. But then I realise that this voice isn’t Bunce’s. It’s sweet and high. Almost like chiming bells.

I whip my head around and see a girl step out from the trees. She has thick, brown hair that flows to her waist and glittering, green wings extending from her shoulder blades. I can’t tell you what colour her eyes are, because I know not to look in them. Simon can’t know my wish. And, I realise with a start, I don’t want to know his.

**SIMON**

“Get down!” Baz yells, trying to grab my head so he can force it to the ground. But he’s looking at the ground himself, so his hand just flails around helplessly. I look at the girl who is hovering at the edge of the treeline, trying to place where Baz knows her. I meet her eyes, trying to find answers there. Her wings start flapping faster, and she gasps.

“Precious,” she whispers, sounding awed. Precious? Who’s precious? Baz sits up, sharply.

“What did you _do?_ ” he yells, exasperated. At first, I think that he’s yelling at me but then I realise he’s staring down the girl. Fairy. But no cobwebs. Half-fairy? Of… _of fairy descent_. It’s the girl from Baz’s book. She turns and flies back into the wood.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as he sprints towards her, “Wait!”

“Baz!” I call. “Come back!” But he’s not here. He’s never here.

**BAZ**

I tear through the forest, looking for the wings of the glittering green from my childhood. She blends in with the leaves - fucking leaves! - as I search desperately for her. I trip on a tree root and come face-to-face with a pair of vans.

"Bloodeater, son of Pitch and Grimm. I have heard much about you."

"Please, I swear I'll do anything. You can’t grant his wish!” She can’t take him from me. I’m not ready.

“I must grant his wish to carry out my own.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Compassion. If I help others, they may do the same. I wish for a world where there is no discrimination because everyone is equal, no hunger because everyone shares and no more trees burning,” (I could’ve sworn for a moment her eyes narrow down at me,) “because everyone cares. By helping one person, I could be helping the whole world.” I stare down her shoes, not daring to look up.

“Spoken like a true fairy.”

“Fairy _descent._ Do I look like I enjoy taunting people?”

“Well-”

“And wearing cobwebs?”

“I mean I-”

“You can’t _assume_ that I’m a fairy just because I’m nice to people sometimes. I’m a lot more than my species.”

I open my mouth to explain that I know, more than most people, how that feels. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I just let myself slip into the stereotype.

But she’s already running again, shouting “ ** _Beans!_** ” over her shoulder. Beans? What the-? A great rumbling interrupts my train of thought, as all around me plants start to tear out of the ground, snapping and winding their way around my arms and legs, squeezing all the air out of my chest. _Magic_ beans. Even though the fairies couldn’t wield magic, they still had it. I guess they’ve evolved since going into the woods, and have found alternative ways to channel their power. I don’t appreciate it being channelled at _me._ My wrists are bound, so I can’t reach my wand. My back is pushed against the trunk of a tree. I try not to think about the last time my back was against a tree. I do all the time anyway. I move around a bit and the vines loosen slightly. But only slightly. I sigh and hang my head, annoyed more than anything else that I can’t _do_ anything but wait. It isn’t like an answer is going to come and present itself to me.

And that’s when Simon bloody Snow comes sprinting into the woods, holding a knife that I can still see (vampire's eyes) is covered in butter.

**SIMON**

“Sorry I’m late, Penny came back with scones.”

“Oh, be still, my beating heart. I have never heard words so sweet,” he monotones, sarcastically.

“Do want me to cut you out or not?”

“Yes, but you’re still an idiot.”

After a bit of sawing, some of which leaves Baz’s face about an inch away from mine ( _don’t think don’t think don’t think_ ), we set off through the woods. Baz is pounding the ground with purpose, and I’m having to do an awkward half-walk-half-jog to keep up. It’s embarrassing.

“So, what are we looking for?” I pant.

“The fairy. I mean fairy descended being.”

“You didn’t eat them all, then?” He whirls around at that.

“Snow, no one has seen the fairies for centuries and you know that.” I grin, enjoying poking fun at him again. He almost grins back. We walk together for a while. The wood’s quite quiet when it isn’t on fire or trying to kill us. Peaceful. The sunlight lands in speckles on the ground, making Baz’s pale skin glow like a pearl. His hand brushes mine a couple of times, and the third time I grab it and knot his fingers through mine. His grey eyes squint at me and he smiles in a way I haven’t seen for a long time.

We come across a stream, flowing lazily through the trees, the water so clear that it’s probably magickal. Baz pulls out his wand from where it’s been tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He points it at the stream.

“ ** _History, huh?_** ” he shouts defiantly, like how he used to when he was spoiling for a fight. The reflections on the stream shift to show Liliana, jumping and floating for a moment over it, dropping something that looks like…

The answer to my wish.

I bend down and pick up the ring. Precious.

**BAZ**

Simon’s still kneeling. I start shaking.

“Baz, I know things have been, well, different between us lately. And things keep trying to kill us. But on the inside, things haven’t changed for me. I still can’t fall asleep without listening to the sound of your breathing because it means I know that you’re safe. I still find myself imagining what it would’ve been like if we’d both been a bit less stubborn. A bit less stupid. I know there’s no magic inside of me but Baz, you are all the magic I need. I know that’s clichéd and stupid but I need you to know that you are _good_ , no matter what you tell yourself. And I need you to know that I love you. I choose you back.”

Then he asks the question.

And _he_ is my answer.


End file.
